


live circuit

by tangerinesilly



Series: exposure therapy [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Autofellatio, M/M, Masturbation, Pain Kink, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:06:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27667918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangerinesilly/pseuds/tangerinesilly
Summary: Autofellatio. Steve first heard it from Tommy. Sucking your own dick, basically. Easy in theory, bone-crushingly hard in real life.
Relationships: (IMPLIED), Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: exposure therapy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2023130
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	live circuit

Steve was anything but undetermined. If there is a will, there is a way. A one-track mind, as Nancy would put it. 

Steve squeezed his abs, shaking in concentration. Honestly, Nancy can fuck off. She doesn’t know him anymore. And fuck his stupid family. Fuck everybody who “knows what’s good for him”. 

And most of all fuck Billy Hargrove who didn’t– Steve propped himself higher– _fucking_ – clamping in one neat line– call! 

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Billy left his messenger bag back at the library. 

Steve scribbled some numbers down, pointedly not looking down at the piece of paper. He planted his “note” on top of the bag, securing it with the gum. 

Done and done. So call maybe? Ugh _-_

He’s not thinking about anybody for now. 

Frankly, nobody is thinking about him either. 

Steve scrambled the thought, tossing it as a used tissue. _Score. Three points._

He exhaled, all of his body groaning around it. That was childish. That what his mom would say. 

_And a good throw_. He should get back on the court, which is beside the point. 

His eyelids felt heavy, sweat steadily dripping into them. Gravity rubbing the salt into his tear ducts making it burn. Felt good. Cleansing. Made it easier to keep it together and streamline. 

He should talk to somebody. Maybe. When he is more human and less the leaning tower of Pisa. 

Steve froze, holding himself tight. Bones, muscles, fat – all propped onto a single point of his backbone. Crushing Steve into the floor, making him cave under. 

Something has to give. Probably his pelvis. 

Steve went back for the scrambled thought – ignoring the repressed pile in the corner all together – and put it away neatly, murmuring _sorry_ for the Nancy part. It’s just really not the time. 

His goal was currently two pesky ribs away. If only he could exhale a little better, or spread a little deeper… His spine strained, cracking in a warning. Steve pushed. 

He is going to do this. Whatever it may take. 

_Autofellatio._

He first heard it from Tommy. Sucking your own dick, basically. Easy in theory, bone-crushingly hard in real life. 

Steve had no give to him. But he could make this work. On the level of challenging being butt ass naked bent like a pretzel against a wall is peanuts. And nuts. He hasn’t seen them in a while. He gave them a periphery squeeze in respect. _Thank you for your service_. 

The belly button sat an awkward oval on his belly. Was it always so weird? 

It looked like a crooked mouth with two moles for eyes above it. With each pressed inhale it contoured as if speaking. Maybe it was spurring Steve on to believe in himself. To finally beat those inches and-

_Suck it._

Apparently, barricading at home, cutting off any contact with the outer world was how Steve chose to go about his situation. All of his many situations. 

His life was a weird flavor right now. Between having the best blow job of his life by a guy he hates and discovering he likes a side dish of torture to go with it, covered in a sauce of burning curiosity. Like aunt Tilde said: it tastes better than it looks. Don’t knock it till you try it. 

His dick looks nothing like that horrid casserole. Bobbing mere inches from his face.

Steve concentrated on the red head rocking from side to side, precome catching in the light. If anything, it looked like a melted lollipop.

Why is he even pondering how a dick looks? How it tastes? Oh, he fucking hates Hargrove! It’s his entire fault. He really came in and unscrewed – screwed – something that Steve kept under a tight lock. 

Questions. 

Questions he chose to never ask. Questions that were never welcome in this house. But they started to pop up, like unwanted relatives. Sleeping in his bed, stretching out his clothes, eating all his food, hogging all of the covers. 

There was a how and a why and a what. Freeloaders that what his dad would say. 

Why did he still taste that goddamn gum? No amount of toothpaste can ward off the tangy and sweet. They are the new bullies in town. The berry taste lodged itself safely behind his teeth. And every time he tonged at it – Billy was there. In his mouth.

What did Hargrove feel when he did it. You know… Played the fiddle… 

And the other is how. How Steve’s junk is still attached? That moment right before Billy resurfaced from under that desk, the world stilled. He finished, but Hargrove didn’t pop off right away, still squeezing. Steve was sure that Hargrove’s white tank would be covered in goopy red splatters with teeth latched around something that wasn’t his.

Steve’s dick twitched, not in the least bit scared of things sharp. 

Steve decided to ponder a bit. Get his head straight. He shut the blinds, cut off the landline, stocked up on food, and fallen completely off the face of the earth. 

This is self-care honestly. Completely justified. That what the mags say: Live. For. Yourself. And that he is a deep autumn. That the only point of contemption- cotemtation- 

Fuck! Contempt! He is clearly a spring. 

Not a word about dealing with the alien PTSD boners, but maybe the next issue will be better. Fingers crossed.

The TV was his only company, washing the living room in a constant grainy blue. The sun comes and goes without Steve knowing. No time, no space. Just constant feed of voices and colors, partially drowning his internal monologues. 

Wait, was it summer already?

He doesn’t know. He might step out for a quick peek and find everybody gone. Maybe Hargrove made good on the promise and started the world's biggest stake. Maybe a nuke happened. 

That thought weighs the heaviest on his chest, somehow very real. Gripping right at the breastbone, twisting it in a what-if. Steve let go of his breath, promising to fix the phone and call mom soon. 

The lines blurred again, keeping Steve out of focus. The world sometimes didn’t exist at all, when he slept too little or smoked too much. 

He needed to apply himself somehow while his mind struggled for the grasp on reality. 

The suck-your-own-dick idea clicked while he was doing crunches under the firm instructions of Miss Fonda. Those leotards and hip thrusts… They are a lot. So to placate his conciseness, he started to thrust too. And to jump and do the curls. 

And then it hit him. His dick! It’s right there!

So, yeah, ideas rubbed together and popped a baby: do the stretches, suck your cock, and stop thinking about any of it. 

A light breeze brushed against him, making Steve shiver, too on edge. Maybe he doesn’t need to do this. Just shove it all back into the corner of his mind. 

Tommy was never afraid to ask questions. He was friends with them. He let them stay. 

The cogs in Steve’s brain turned languidly, producing an observation. Come to think of it, he was probably gunning at something else with his cock-in-mouth talks. 

Pressed against each other during their junior year, high out of their minds, the room smelling like cheese puffs and sweat, Tommy leaned in, eyes shining. 

“Everybody tried it at least once,” Tommy reasoned. “Aren’t you curious,” he licked his lips, “how it feels,” he paused again, eyes searching something in Steve’s, “for the girl?”

He had that sweaty palms, glassy eyes, twitchy leg feel about him then as Steve has now. And he looked up at Steve like this was important. He should’ve just played along.

“Huh?” Steve searched Tommy’s face, missing the point. 

Maybe the things he said right after marked their future rift. Just goes to show Steve doesn’t deserve friends. All of the other shit just piled onto it, exaggerating the break. But Steve never entertained the idea – back then– cutting Tommy’s wishful thinking short. 

“Sucking your own dick is just plain out weird. And sad. And queer.” That what he told Tommy, putting nails into the coffin of their friendship. 

The salt on his skin turned bitter. Steve wheezed _sorry_ again, not having the strength to push this one away. 

Maybe if he could, he’d go back in time to see where that conversation could have gone. If only he was as curious – and horny – back then as he is now. 

And look at him now. Actually, if anyone could see him right now, he’d probably die. Ass pressed into the wall, lags hiked almost behind his ears. Heart pumping all of his blood into his head. Well, two heads. 

He is so stretched, he could do the splits. 

Strained as a bow against the wall, his neck is ought to fall off any second now. 

Maybe that’s what he is doing wrong. He should probably try to relax, let the gravity open him up. 

In good faith, Steve relaxed, effectively collapsing himself. He opened his mouth, eyes focused, legs approaching his face. In slow motion, he waited for his dick to fall right into place. His heart stilled in anticipation. 

_C’mon. Three points. Three points._

His feet hit the floor behind his ears with a loud thud. 

He was close. He felt the tip brush against the corner of his mouth, leaving a wet trail. Something sweet coiled in his belly at the filthiness. 

So frustratingly close! But alas. No cigar. No dick. 

Steve let his legs slide onto one side, tired. What now? He could try it another time. Or choose the path of less resistance. It didn’t occur to him that he could just… suck someone else off.

He was still hard, the buzz pleasantly rolling through him. Steve gently cupped himself. Aware of his tender spots. At the moment the idea of having some else’s dick in his mouth didn’t sound offensive. 

What if he caught Billy Hargrove off guard like that. He still owns him one. It’s a match and he won’t lose. 

Determination gripped at Steve, urging him to move his hand. The berry trembled in his mouth soon to be squeezed. 

A one-track mind indeed. 

Speeding up, he plunged the other hand in his mouth testing it out. It felt. Wet. Full. Tickly. Wasn’t the real thing. Didn’t feel naughty at all. 

In a stroke of genius, he pulled out his wet fingers, pressing them behind himself, inching them lower. The hole fluttered under his fingertips. Warm and tight. Steve keened rolling onto them, mostly teasing. The flare of shame and too much were back, licking Steve from the inside. His dick jerked under his palm, urging him to explore and do more of that. 

Steve was sweating from every pore, consecrated on two points of pleasure. He squeezed at the crown, letting one finger go deeper, pushing his ass into it. It went in with a squelch, his skin slippery. 

He pushed his fingernail into the slit, sawing back and forth, letting the sensations mix. 

Steve bit on his bottom lip, trapping in the moan. His hips canted, the wave of release ringing through. The pressure built and built nearly giving him a nose bleed. He let go. 

Oranges and reds passed under his eyelids, his ass clamping down on his fingers. Being stuck upside down for so long, it felt like he was coming against the gravitational pool. A come faucet. 

Steve exhaled lowering, his spine bendy like a hose. His heartbeat was in his throat and ears, vision blurry. He giggled, overcome by the lightness, only a heavy load gone could bring. 

He will be stuck with this silly grin for the rest of the day. Determined to makes things move. Air out. Maybe see a shrink. 

He scooped up some come from his chest to wash down the berry waiting on his tongue. Sweet and promising. 

If there is a will, there is a way. 


End file.
